


I Will Wait For You

by stilinskicity



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, EMT!Derek, Friends With Benefits, Fuckbuddies, Hand Jobs, Jealousy, M/M, Possessive Behavior, cop!Stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-01-05 18:42:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1097354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilinskicity/pseuds/stilinskicity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is a cop. Derek is an EMT.</p><p>They have a good working-relationship, but after a drunken night together, Stiles can't help but wonder if everything's been ruined</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Grounding Force

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5 months later and i finally revisited this fic!! i edited this first chapter some. i now i have every intention of continuing this fic and updating regularly so check back often if you want!

Stiles hates feeling helpless. He felt helpless as a child as he watched his mom wither away before his and his father's eyes. He felt helpless in the months after her death, struggling with panic attacks while steadily trying to convince himself his father's drinking wasn't a big deal. Stiles sometimes thinks that those feelings of helplessness are what lead him to become a cop. When you're a cop, you can take control of the situations you're in.

Except for now. Stiles feels really helpless, standing outside of Beacon Hills Credit Union with the rest of the BHPD. Beacon Hills is a relatively quiet town in regards to crime. A few petty thefts here, some graffiti there. No biggie, right? Well now…now, there's a fucking hostage situation and Stiles has been given explicit orders from his captain not to take a single step towards the bank. It's killing him, actually killing him, to stand by and wait for the hostage negotiators and S.W.A.T. to make their way into town.

When Stiles had arrived at the scene 20 minutes earlier, he was ready to enter the bank; especially once he was informed someone was already injured inside. Stiles has never been good at following the rules, but he's learned that when your captain gives you a direct order, you follow it. So he's standing by his squad car, literally twiddling his thumbs; itching to spring into action.

In the distance Stiles hears the sound of an ambulance approaching and does his best to hide his smile, because he's a professional, damnit, and smiling inside the perimeter of a serious crime scene is not professional. At all. So Stiles quells his urge to grin by biting the inside of his cheek and staring forward at the bank.

After the sound of the ambulance sirens subside, Stiles spares a glance in the direction where the sounds were coming from a moment earlier, and instantly regrets it when he sees Derek hopping out of the rig. His breath catches, like it always does when he sees Derek Hale (in Stiles' defense, his reaction to Derek is a lot more controlled now that they're quasi-coworkers and friends).

Stiles has come to accept the fact that seeing Derek in his EMT uniform is just something that he will never get used to. Stiles thinks it should be illegal for Derek to wear shirts and pants so tight. Seriously, how the man even moves with the fabric tightly hugging his ripped physique is a mystery.

Stiles quickly regains his composure and sends Derek a friendly nod and playful wink once their eyes meet and is rewarded with a small, intimate smile he likes to pretend is just for him. He turns back towards the bank but keeps an eye on Derek as he speaks with his partner, Mattie. At the end of their conversation Stiles smiles to himself a little when he realizes Derek is making his way through the crowd to come stand by him.

Stiles turns as Derek approaches, "Hey, dude. So hostage situation at your friendly neighborhood bank. Who would've thought, huh?"

Derek nods in agreement and Stiles allows himself a second to take Derek in and- _oh shit_. He's grumpy. Stiles doesn't let himself dwell too much on the fact that he can now tell Derek's mood after spending less than a minute with him. Derek's arms are crossed, his eyebrows are drawn together, and his nostrils are flared. Super grumpy.

"What's wrong with you?" Stiles tries.

"Nothing," Derek replies curtly.

"Could've fooled me..." Stiles mumbles in response, turning back to face the bank.

"It's just..."

"What?"

"Someone's hurt in there, Stiles. And they won't let me or Mattie anywhere near the victim. God, who knows how long it's going to take for the negotiator to get here-let alone how long it will take them to actually talk down this lunatic!" Derek is panting now, and Stiles tries to keep his thoughts pure, because 'professional' is his middle name.

Stiles tentatively places a hand on Derek's shoulder and turns his body so that he's standing directly in front of him, obscuring Derek's view of the bank.

"You know it's safer this way. For everyone involved. No cop in their right mind would send you or Mattie in there. It would spook this guy and put you in danger," Stiles states while soothingly rubbing his hands up and down from Derek's shoulders to his biceps. He's not usually  _this_  tactile with Derek, but he's also never seen Derek this upset in the 5 months that they've known each other, so. Special circumstances or something like that.

"I know you're right, Stiles, I know that! That doesn't change how I feel right now though. I feel..."

"...Helpless," Stiles supplies.

"Yeah," Derek nods, bringing his hands up to where Stiles' hands are resting on his biceps. Stiles' eyes instinctively move to where he's now basically holding hands with Derek and tries not to make it obvious that he's freaking out internally.

Derek doesn't give him the chance, because he gives Stiles’ hands a quick pat and dashes forward and past Stiles. After a second collecting his thoughts about what just happened, Stiles turns around and grabs Derek by his forearm.

"What are you doing?"

"Something. Anything! I can't stand here and let someone die in there, Stiles. I can't fucking do it. It's my job to save people!" Derek yells.

Stiles takes a deep breath, "Alright, big guy. One: keep your voice down. We're surrounded by an entire police department right now; you can't start acting crazy, okay? Okay. Two: yeah, it is your job to save people. But you know what my job is? My job is to protect people. See the badge? Yeah, that means your safety is my responsibility, Derek. So you're not going in there!"

"Stiles," Derek breathes out angrily.

"I know, Derek, I fucking know, alright, but I can't let you go in there. You think I'm not dying to get _my ass_ in there? We just have to be patient. Just...please don't make me handcuff you," Stiles laughs out the last part of his rant and then feels his cheeks turn hot when he realizes what he said. He chances a look at Derek and is greeted with that small smile again at the same time he feels Derek's muscles uncoil where he's holding him.

"Handcuffs, huh?"

"Yes, Derek, handcuffs. Strictly for professional use only. Yep. No personal use for those bad boys at all."

Derek huffs out a laugh and turns towards Stiles, "Sorry. And thanks. For stopping me."

"No problem, dude. It's kinda my job, so it was either talk you down as a friend or take you down as a cop," Stiles laughs as they walk back to his car.

"You think you could take me?" Derek asks playfully.

"I didn't go through the academy for nothin'."

"That a yes?"

"Yes, Derek, that's a yes," Stiles grins, happy for the lighter route the conversation has taken.

Derek raises his eyebrows just a touch, "Well. We'll have to see about that one day, then."

"Yeah," Stiles lets out more breathy than he would've liked. He's trying to play it cool, damnit! Being breathy is not in the playing it cool guidebook.

~~~**~~~

The rest of the day goes by in a blur once the negotiator talks down the shooter and he's removed from the bank. Only one person is wounded, not fatally, and Stiles watches Derek and Mattie work their magic before transporting the victim to the local hospital.

Stiles leaves the scene at a little after 8:30, eager to get back to the station and fill out his paperwork to put an end to the longest day ever. He's exhausted. Apparently spending the day directing traffic and herding groups of people away from a dangerous situation is extremely tiring.

Almost as soon as Stiles walks into the station and is retreating to the conference room, his phone pings. Expecting it to be Scott requesting details about the incident at the bank, he opts to wait until he's settled with a coffee and his paperwork to text back.

Stiles feels like he's five seconds away from passing out and drooling all over the papers he's been diligently working away at for what feels like a lifetime. He reaches for his phone that's sitting in the chair beside him and feels like he's been punched in the sternum when he reads that he has one unread text. From Derek. Received over an hour ago. Stiles hastily unlocks his phone, berating himself for forgetting he had a message.

From: Derek H.

**Drinks at McNalley's after shift? My treat. As a way of saying thanks for today. Again.**

To: Derek H.

**ive been filling out report after report ever since i got back to the station and i just now saw your text. promise i wasnt ignoring you**

From: Derek H.

**It's fine. I actually just walked into McNalley's. If you're up for it tonight?**

Shit. Stiles can't ignore how tired he is, but he also can't ignore the butterflies he feels at the prospect of drinking the night away with Derek.

To: Derek H.

**ill be there in 20.**

From: Derek H.

**Great. See you then, Stiles.**

_Shit. Shitshitshit_. Stiles is so fucked. He has barely spent any time with Derek outside of work and he's already so enamored with him, he knows he's going to fall fast if this becomes a regular thing. But god, Stiles really doesn't care at this point. He wants this to become a regular thing so damn much.

~~~**~~~

25 minutes later Stiles walks into McNalley's and his eyes immediately land on Derek sitting at the bar with his back to Stiles. He takes the moment to appreciate how Derek looks, for the second time in less than 24 hours, and notices how different Derek seems outside of his uniform. He looks like the resident badass of Beacon Hills in his black leather jacket, light grey Henley, and skin tight jeans. He looks nothing like the upstanding EMT from earlier, waiting in the wings to save innocent people, and Stiles' dick can't help but take notice.

Stiles swears under his breath as he makes his way over to Derek. He places his hand on Derek's shoulder as he approaches and leans in to yell a greeting at him over the loud pop music that's playing over the speakers. He sits at the empty stool next to Derek, "You know you don't have to thank me for today."

"Yeah, I do, you stopped me from doing something stupid."

"I know. You're kind of irrational and impulsive, aren't you?" Stiles grins.

Derek throws a tight lipped smile at Stiles by way of response.

"But you know, if you really do want to keep thanking me, I respond really well to beer."

Derek laughs quietly and motions for the bartender to bring two beers to where they're seated. The night goes by slow for Stiles, but not in a bad, _please get me out of here_ , kind of way. He takes his time memorizing the way Derek gesticulates while he's telling a story about work or about his sister, and the way he acts like he doesn't want to smile, but his face betrays him and he smiles anyway. 

Much to Stiles surprise, there is hardly any lull in their conversation throughout the night, and when there is, it's companionable and not at all uncomfortable. By the end of the night Stiles is pleasantly buzzed, and he notes Derek is too, by the way he's more relaxed and less taciturn.

They stumble out of the bar, Stiles' right arm slung over Derek's shoulders. He's very touchy when he's drunk, shutup. He removes his arm and turns to face Derek, prepared to say his goodbye, when Derek suddenly crowds him up against a random brick wall.

"Derek..."

"Stiles," Derek runs his left hand from Stiles' forehead back through his hair, coming to rest just below his ear, and Stiles can't help but to lean into the touch.

"What're you doing?"

Derek freezes and tenses up, "Do you...do you want this?"

"Of course I want this, Derek, Jesus. I just didn't know  _you_  wanted this."

"You're such an idiot," Derek smiles and leans in close. Stiles has just enough time to close his eyes before Derek's lips are on his. Stiles has imagined this 100 different times, but he never once imagined that their first kiss would be this slow, gentle, and intimate. Stiles sighs into Derek's mouth, allowing Derek's tongue entrance into his mouth, and just like that, the kiss is no longer slow and sweet. It's desperate and rushed and Stiles can't decipher who's making those needy whines in the back of their throat (he's pretty sure it's him).

Derek pulls back to breathe and rests his forehead on Stiles' shoulder, "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that."

"Uh, yeah, dude, I probably do," Stiles retorts, reaching his hand down to adjust his hardening cock. "Listen, I'm all for this. 100% down with what is happening, but I'm a cop, I really can't get arrested for public indecency. I'll never live it down. So, if you're as okay with this as I am, can we relocate?"

Derek picks his head up and stares at Stiles intensely before nodding and reaching for Stiles' hand, "My house is only about a 10 minute walk. That okay?"

"Perfect."

~~~**~~~

Stiles wakes up in an unfamiliar bed on his back with a heavy arm draped across his stomach. He glances at the sleeping body next to him and can't stop a grin from spreading across his face. But almost as soon as the grin appeared, it's gone. Stiles stares up at the ceiling, fighting back the urge to puke. It's not just his hangover, he was never really  _that_  drunk, the need to empty out the contents of his stomach stems from the situation he's put himself in.

Before getting back to Derek's house the night before, he and Stiles hadn't talked at all. And once they got inside, clothes started flying, they barely made it to the bed, and they hadn't talked at all other than whispered praises and demands while they were fucking.

Stiles has no idea if what he and Derek did was a one-time thing, or if Derek actually has feelings for Stiles (Stiles knows he has feelings for Derek. Strong ones. Scary ones. Feelings he can't acknowledge right now without feeling dizzy).

Stiles slowly and silently maneuvers out of the bed and into Derek's bathroom. He splashes his face with water and sits down on the toilet and wonders if he just fucked up one of the best working-relationships and friendships he's ever had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come find me on tumblr!!
> 
> derekhalesies or stilinskicity


	2. Deal With The Devil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short lil chapter to set up the rest of the fic :-)  
> ps: all of the chapters will be short because i dont have the patience to write long ones and i just get so excited that i can't not post something if im happy with it!!

Stiles stays in Derek’s bathroom longer than is probably necessary. He’s calmer now and no longer feels like he can’t breathe, but he still can’t bring himself to walk back into Derek’s bedroom. He washes his mouth out with mint flavored mouthwash, dries off his face and hands on a towel and places his hand on the door handle. He knows he has to face Derek eventually (sooner, rather than later, would be preferred since Stiles is slowly starving to death) but he dreads hearing what Derek might have to say. Derek could tell Stiles _hey thanks for the sex see you whenever our paths cross next_ or _hey let’s keep fucking_ or he could say what Stiles really wants to hear, _I want to be with you_. Stiles prays that Derek wants to be with him in a serious, committed kind of way, but he’ll take whatever he can get from Derek at this point. Now that he’s been with Derek, he can’t imagine _not_ being with him. And that’s scaring him.

When Stiles emerges from the bathroom, he’s greeted by Derek sitting cross-legged on the end of the bed, facing Stiles, wearing nothing but his underwear. Stiles admires the view for a quick second, before walking and sitting next to Derek, mirroring his position.

Derek breaks the silence first, “So.”

“So,” Stiles laughs. _Kill me_ , he thinks. This is the worst moment of his entire life.

“Last night was,” Derek starts, “Fun.”

 _Oh no_ , Stiles thinks. He’s heard that line before, mostly from various men and women who were about to kick him out of their bed and never talk to him again. Stiles scrunches his face up, turns away from Derek to look out of the window, “Yeah. It was a lot of fun.”

“Listen, Stiles, I-“ Derek sighs. Stiles can feel his heart shattering in his chest. “I’m not at a place in my life where I can be part of something…serious.”

Stiles purses his lips together, nods his head slowly, “Okay. I understand.” Stiles uncrosses his legs and gets up from the bed, only to be grabbed by a frustrated-looking Derek. “What, Derek?” Stiles can’t help but to let his anger and disappoint cloud his tone.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to see you still,” Derek whispers, looking down at his and Stiles’ threaded fingers. Stiles can’t help but look down at them as well.

“So where does that leave us?” Stiles asks, sitting back down on the bed.

“It’s up to you, the ball’s in your court,” Derek answers.

“Let me get this straight,” Stiles says, “What you’re proposing is a friends with benefits type situation? Correct?”

A corner of Derek’s mouth twitches upward, “Friends with benefits? I didn’t realize you were a high schooler.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, shoves at Derek’s shoulder, “Fine! Does fuckbuddies sound better to you?”

“Not at all,” Derek replies, face twisted in disgust. “How about we just call ourselves _Stiles and Derek_?”

Stiles smiles, “I think I can handle that.”

“Good,” Derek smiles at him, bright as the fucking sun. “Breakfast?” Stiles turns his head over his shoulder to look at Derek’s alarm clock. _9:15_.

“Shit,” Stiles exhales. “Yeah. Yeah I want breakfast, but something quick I gotta go home and get ready for work.”

“Okay,” Derek kisses Stiles’ knuckles, releases his hand, and walks out of the room.

Stiles lays back onto the bed and rubs his hands aggressively up and down his face. Realistically, Stiles knows this won’t end well. He falls fast and hard without thinking, and Derek basically just said that he wouldn’t be there to catch him.

It’s a bad idea to keep seeing Derek. The _worst_ idea. But that’s never stopped Stiles before, and it’s definitely not going to stop him now.

Stiles finds his clothes that are strewn about Derek’s room, puts them on, and heads downstairs. He follows the sounds of pans clanging and buttons beeping until he finds Derek in the kitchen. He has eggs in a pan and a glass of orange juice sitting on table. Stiles, feeling emboldened by the fact that Derek wants to keep seeing him, walks up behind him and wraps his arms around his waist.

Derek tips his head back and turns his face into Stiles’, presses a quick kiss to his cheek, and returns to the food on the stove.

“Buzzkill,” Stiles mumbles as he sips the orange juice.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Derek turns around slightly, smirking.

“Oh, nothing. I was just talking to myself about how you’re the worst.”

Derek’s eyebrows move up slightly on his face, “That’s not what you were saying last night.”

“I…” Stiles feels himself blushing and hopes that Derek keeps his attention on the cooking food. “I said a lot of things last night. Care to remind me which particular things you’re thinking of?”

Derek cuts the oven off and comes to stand right in Stiles’ personal space. He pushes him up against the table and wraps his arms around his neck and whispers, “You kept saying _Derek you’re perfect_ which negates you calling me the worst just now,” Derek grins, and it’s a cocky grin that Stiles just wants to kiss off his face.

So he does.

Because he’s allowed to do that now. He kisses Derek until he’s breathless, pulls back and rests his forehead against Derek’s and whispers back, “Heat of the moment. I can’t be held accountable for what I say when you’re fucking me.”

“So you _don’t_ think I’m perfect?” Derek fake pouts.

Stiles tilts his head to the side, pretends like he’s examining Derek before he says, “I plead the fifth.”

Derek pulls away and turns back around to tend to the food before mumbling something about _fucking cops_. Stiles can tell he’s smiling.

Once Derek hands him his breakfast, Stiles eats fast and tells Derek he really does have to go.

They’re standing in the entrance of Derek’s front door when Stiles notices.

“What are all of these boxes doing here?”

“I’m moving,” Derek sighs, scratching his neck absently.

“What?! Why? You’ve lived here your entire life! What about Cora?!” Stiles yells. Is this why Derek _can’t_ _do serious_ right now? Because he’s leaving town? Stiles feels his chest aching at the thought.

“Cora’s the reason I'm getting my own place,” Derek replies, like it's obvious. “She wants to move in with her boyfriend. So long story short, they’re moving in here and I’m getting an apartment.”

“Oh,” Stiles breathes out. “Good! You scared me, you dick. I thought you were leaving town.”

“Nope. You’re stuck with me,” Derek smiles, leaning in to kiss Stiles goodbye.

“Bummer,” Stiles grins. He runs his fingers through Derek’s hair, kisses the corner of his mouth, then turns and walks down the stairs of the porch. “See you?”

“Yeah,” Derek nods. “I’ll call you.”

Stiles turns back around and starts walking down the barely-there driveway of Derek’s house. He has a 10 minute walk back to his jeep that’s still parked at the bar and Stiles is looking forward to having time to think about everything that has happened without being in the presence of Derek. He’s distracting.

As he walks, Stiles replays the events that happened in the last 13 hours in his head. He got drunk, had sex, and then proceeded to enter into a friends with benefits type situation with Derek. That isn’t how Stiles thought last night would go, at all, but he’s strangely okay with it.

When he reaches the door of his jeep, he hops in and tries to stop the single thought he has in his head from ruining his day.

_Please call._

_Please call._

_Please call._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> psa: i'm going out of town to visit a friend on thursday so i probably wont update again until monday!
> 
> come find me on tumblr though!!
> 
> derekhalesies or stilinskicity


	3. Say It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the idea for this chapter came to me while i was on my trip and i literally saw this happen right in front of my eyes ok bye
> 
> come find me on tumblr  
> derekhalesies (also my twitter hint hint) or stilinskicity

The next three weeks pass by relatively quickly for Stiles. He works a lot, he visits his dad, he hangs out with Scott and Allison. It’s all pretty routine except for the fact that he’s now fucking Derek on a regular basis. _A super regular basis_. Aka sometimes they have meet up and have sex more than once on a slow day.

Stiles loves it but he can’t ignore the fact that it feels like something’s missing.

Because something _is_ missing.

It’s the commitment that Stiles wants, that he _craves_ , that’s missing from what he has with Derek. He wants to go out, hold hands in public, be wooed. Derek is not wooing him. Because he has no reason to. He has Stiles in his bed almost every night. (Stiles ignores the pang in his chest when he thinks about how he hasn’t even stayed the night with Derek since the first night, and the fact that Derek just lets him leave).

Long story short, Stiles is lonely. He assumes that’s why he agrees to go on a date with Allison’s teaching assistant. Correction, _a blind date_ with Allison’s teaching assistant. Stiles knows nothing about the guy other than _he’s super nice_ according to Allison. Which doesn’t really mean much to Stiles, considering Allison gets along with everyone.

“Are you ready?” Scott asks from his spot on the couch.

Stiles walks out of Scott and Allison’s room and faces Scott, “Yeah, I guess. I just don’t know how I feel about being set up, Scotty.”

Scott rolls his eyes, using his entire body, “Dude. I know you’ve been trying to act happy because you feel like you should be happy about you and Derek, but you’re miserable!”

Stiles squawks, opens his mouth to respond, and is interrupted by Allison, “He’s right, you know.”

Stiles stops trying to fight it then, “Yeah I know.” He flops down onto the couch beside Scott and leans into him as Allison walks by and ruffles his grown out hair.

“You need to go now or you’re going to be late,” Allison chides. “And please be nice to Zack even if you have no interest in him. I have to work with him every day for the next few months and I’d rather him not hate me.”

“Shoulda thought of that before you set us up,” Stiles comments as he's halfway out the door. He stops and turns around to face a disgruntled looking Allison, “I’ll be nice, okay!?”

Allison smiles, showing off her dimples, “That’s what I thought you said.” Stiles smiles fondly, shakes his head, and walks to his car. He checks his watch and realizes Allison wasn't lying. He barely has enough time to make it to the movie theater without being late.

He pulls into the parking lot with one minute to spare. He checks to make sure he has his phone, wallet, and keys before he exits the car when there’s a tap on his window. He flails around a bit and internally calls himself the worst cop in the world because he is the opposite of hypervigilant. Once he notices that it’s his date (at least that’s who thinks it is. Allison only told Stiles that he had thick-rimmed glasses and light blond hair) he smiles and gets out of the jeep with as much grace as he can muster. When he shuts the door he offers his hand to Zack, “I’m Stiles. Nice to meet you.”

“Sorry I didn't mean to startle you. Allison told me what kind of car you drive and I saw you pull in...so. I'm Zack. And back at you,” He smiles and ducks his head. And…oh my god that’s a blush. Stiles tangles their fingers together, looks at Zack for approval (who nods and blushes even more) and heads inside the building. Stiles purchases two tickets for the newest superhero movie that’s playing and Zack buys them snacks. (It took everything Stiles had not to go overboard and buy every snack available. Even though he wanted to, he wanted to make a good first impression more). When they walk into the theater, it’s still lit up and there is only one other couple in there. Zack leads them to an empty row in the middle and Stiles smiles because that’s his favorite place to sit.

 _So far, so good_ , he thinks to himself as he settles in to watch the previews. He and Zack make conversation about the previews they see, hold hands because they kind of never let go from earlier, and it’s alright…but Stiles can already tell this date isn’t going to go any further than a goodnight kiss. They’re both grasping at straws trying to make small talk and Stiles can’t wait for the movie to start so they can both shutup. Right before the lights go down, Stiles hears the door to the theater open and a woman laughing rather loudly and obnoxiously. Stiles rolls his eyes and grits his teeth. He hates it when people come in late and can’t seem to hit the off switch on their outside voices.

The group of three walk past where Stiles and Zack are sitting and Stiles feels his body go cold all over. He knows these people. It’s Cora, Derek’s sister, her boyfriend Isaac…and Derek. Stiles can’t stop staring at them, and as they turn to walk down the row two in front of Stiles, Derek notices him. His face softens infinitesimally and he smiles for a second before he glances at Zack, then back at Stiles, and down at where they’re holding hands before looking back at Stiles. He manages a weak smile and a wave with the hand that isn’t connected to his date. Derek’s face hardens and he turns back to face the screen and sits down. Not one minute later, Cora turns around and gives him the patented _Hale Glare_. 

Stiles is panicking. He doesn’t know why he’s panicking but he is. Derek is the one who doesn’t want anything serious. Stiles is allowed to do whatever he wants. So why is it getting harder to breathe?

Stiles moves his hand away from Zack’s and whispers, “Bathroom. Be right back.” Zack nods and Stiles sets off for the bathroom.

He walks in, checks and makes sure he’s alone, and pulls out his phone. He has to call Scott and Allison.

“Hello?” Scott answers.

“Dude,” Stiles says, out of breath. “This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Derek is here!” Stiles whisper-screams.

“What?!” Scott yells, “You were supposed to be on a date with Zack!”

“I know that, Scott! And I am!” Stiles says, “But right before the previews ended, he walked in with his sister and her boyfriend and he saw me and he smiled then he saw Zack and he looked so pissed but he doesn’t even have the right to be pissed because he wanted to be casual, not me! And now I'm in the bathroom hiding from both of them. Because I'm a child.”

“Stiles, buddy, slow down okay,” Scott says soothingly. It’s the voice he uses to calm the animals at his job. Stiles would be offended, but it’s working. “You need to calm down and go back out there.”

“Don’t let Derek ruin your date!” Stiles hears Allison yell from somewhere behind Scott. He decides to wait and tell her the date was already falling apart before Derek showed up.

“Okay, I-“ Stiles is interrupted when the door to the bathroom swings open in front of him and Derek walks in. “I have to go. I love you, bye.” Stiles pockets his phone and looks anywhere but at Derek.

“Another one of your little boyfriends?” Derek asks, pointing at the pocket Stiles’ phone is in.

Stiles’ mouth drops open, “None of your fucking business, asshole.”

Derek grins and it makes him look like a predator. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Stiles as he reaches behind his back and locks the door.

“What are you doing, Derek?” Stiles asks, even though he knows what’s coming. Derek is striding towards him now and Stiles braces himself for the collision. Except it doesn’t come. Derek stops right in front Stiles, and cups his face, kisses him softly. Stiles whimpers and fists his hands in Derek’s shirt, pulling him closer. That encourages Derek and he pushes Stiles against the wall directly in front of the stalls. Stiles refrains from thinking about how unsanitary it is and focuses on the way Derek is canting his hips forward and into Stiles. He breaks the kiss and leans his head back against the wall and Derek immediately attaches himself to Stiles’ neck. He has to bite his fist to keep from screaming. Derek knows exactly how to push all of his buttons and Stiles can’t get enough. He uncurls his hand from Derek’s shirt and drapes it around his neck, then proceeds to jump up and wrap his legs around Derek’s waist. Derek pulls back and stares at Stiles before he smirks, turns them around, and walks to the counter. He sets Stiles down beside one of the sinks and deftly unbuttons his pants. Stiles can’t bring himself to stop what’s happening, even though he knows he should. He leans back against the mirror and watches as Derek pulls his jeans down then moves to pull Stiles’ dick out. Stiles makes grabby hands towards Derek and sighs out a noise of contentment when Derek leans forward into his face and kisses him long and soft. When he pulls back, he bumps his nose against Stiles’ before returning to the task at hand. Heh,  _hand_.

Derek spits into his hand and takes both his and Stiles’ leaking cocks into his hand and sets a bruising pace. Stiles leans forward then, not wanting to be further away from Derek’s body heat than necessary. He removes his hands from the damp counter top and buries them in Derek’s hair and tugs gently, eliciting a moan from Derek.

Stiles leans in close to Derek’s ear and whispers, “Hair pulling? I never pegged you for the type to like that.”

Without breaking his fast rhythm, Derek pulls back and looks Stiles in the eye, “There’s a lot you don’t know about me. Yet.” Stiles stares at him for what feels like forever before it becomes too intense and he has to look away.

He rests his forehead against Derek’s neck, crooks one arm around the back of his head, and slips his hand down the back of Derek’s jeans to palm his ass with the other, “God you feel so good. Always feel so good. So right.”

Derek’s pace falters, before he stops completely, “You mean that?”

Stiles is taken aback, not only because of the definite lack of Derek touching his cock, but because of the tone of Derek’s voice. He sounds…vulnerable. He grabs Derek’s face with both of his hands, looks him in the eye, “Yes. You're…don’t make me say it. Not again,” Stiles laughs. Derek doesn’t.

“Say it,” he pleads.

“You're…” Stiles swallows past the lump in his throat, “You’re perfect.” Derek grabs both of their lengths again, returning to his fast jerking motions, and leans forward to kiss Stiles gently, like he’s something that’s fragile. Easily broken. Stiles blinks away the traitorous tears that formed in his eyes and thinks that maybe he is just that. He ignores the intense and bizarre moment they just shared to focus on how close he is to coming. He pulls away from Derek to breathe and brings their foreheads together, “Come on, Derek. Faster.” Derek nods and obeys, quickening his pace and when he whines in the back of his throat, Stiles comes, breathing harshly in Derek’s face. Derek follows suit and comes moments later. He pulls away from Stiles’ forehead and leans in, whispers into his ear, fully out of breath, “Mine.”

Stiles cards his fingers through Derek’s hair and nods, “Yours.” He says, allowing himself to live in the post-orgasm haze where he can pretend Derek loves him back.

When Derek finally pulls back from him, Stiles mourns the loss, “God it’s fucking cold in here.” He crosses his arm dramatically and rubs them to produce heat while Derek leans back to grab paper towels to clean them up with. He drops them into Stiles’ lap then proceeds to take off his jacket.

“Here,” Derek says, offering it to him. Stiles smiles and takes it, puts it on while Derek cleans them up and tucks both of them back into their pants. He tosses the used paper towels into the trashcan by the door then lifts Stiles off the counter.

“I’m not a toddler, you know,” Stiles reprimands.

“Never said you were,” Derek replies casually, “Maybe I just wanted a reason to touch you. Ever think about that?”

Stiles rolls his eyes, “Whatever.”

“We should probably get back to the movie,” Derek says. “We’ve already missed 25 minutes.”

“Shit,” Stiles groans, “Has it really been that long?”

“Yeah,” Derek says, thumbing the bruise he left on Stiles’ neck. Stiles smacks his hand away and points his finger at Derek angrily.

“Stop!” He yells. “Sorry, but, Jesus, you have to stop. I have to go back out to my date now. Who is not you!”

Derek’s face turns sour, “Of course you do. Now that you've gotten what you wanted from me.”

“What the fuck do you want from me, Derek?” Stiles grits out. “Actually, don’t answer that. I don’t have time for this right now. I’ll see you later.” He leans forward, out of instinct, and kisses Derek on the mouth.

Derek smirks.

“Just because I kissed you doesn’t mean I'm not mad and that we aren’t going to have this conversation later!” Stiles yells as he unlocks the door and heads back to the theater. He sits down and smiles at Zack, who looks unimpressed by Stiles’ absence.

He eyes Stiles, lingering on his sex hair and his bruised neck, before saying “nice jacket” and turning back to the screen. Stiles opens his mouth to explain at the same moment Derek walks back in and throws a wink their way. _Asshole_.

“Sorry,” Stiles mumbles. That’s all he can manage because he feels like the absolute worst human being alive. When the movie ends, Zack gets up without a word and leaves. Stiles rests his elbows on his knees and drops his face into his hands. When he lifts his face back up, he realizes he’s alone in the theater.

Derek didn’t wait for him.

Stiles is definitely withholding sex for at least a week. He groans as he gets up and makes his way out of the building and back to his car. Once he gets in, he pulls out his phone and calls Scott.

“So,” he starts, “I think Allison’s gonna be pissed at me.”

Scott groans the entire time it takes Stiles to start the jeep and pull out of the parking lot.


	4. Fallen For You (Literally)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let's talk on tumblr!  
> derekhalesies or stilinskicity!

Because the universe hates Stiles and is likely punishing him for being a dick to his date and for disappointing Allison, the next time Stiles sees Derek is because of work. It’s the first time their paths have crossed professionally since they started hooking up and Stiles has no idea how to act because of that alone, and adding the way they left off to the mix is giving Stiles anxiety.

A drug deal gone sideways is the reason why Stiles and Derek are currently avoiding eye contact with each other. A call had been placed about shots being fired on the top level of an abandoned parking structure so Stiles and his partner had accepted the call and an ambulance had been dispatched just in case anyone was wounded. There are shell-casings littering the cement but no one is around. Stiles assumes whoever was here isn’t hurt, because there’s no blood, got scared when they heard the sirens, and took off. Whatever the case is, Stiles still has to take notes on the scene and wait for CSU to show up. He also has to interview Derek, because him and his partner were on scene first. Stiles groans, catches Derek’s eye and motions for him to come over.

“Can you describe what you saw upon arriving on the scene today?” Stiles asks, flipping his notepad open to a clean page.

“Really, Stiles?”

“Officer Stilinski,” Stiles says pointedly.

“Officer Stilinski,” Derek drawls. Stiles’ face heats up as he imagines Derek saying that in bed before remembering where he is and what he’s doing. “We got here an honest to god minute before you. You saw what we saw.”

“Hale,” Stiles pleads. Derek rolls his eyes but humors Stiles anyway, going into explicit detail of what he saw when he got there. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

Stiles turns to walk back to his squad car, ready to take his lunch break, when he hears Derek calling his name. He stops in his tracks and plasters on his professional cop face before turning around to face him, “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry we haven’t had a chance to talk since…since that night,” Derek says quietly.

“We are so not doing this right now,” Stiles hisses, acutely aware of the two pairs of eyes on them. “I’m so pissed at you right now I'm pretty sure my partner would have to arrest me for threatening your life.”

“You’re pissed?” Derek seems genuinely confused.

“You’re a moron,” Stiles says, pushing lightly at Derek’s chest. “I just told you we aren’t doing this right now and I meant it. If you wanna talk, call me.” Stiles stalks away, much like a petulant child, and gets in the passenger seat of the car. He hears his partner shut the door and actively avoids her stare.

“What was that about?” she asks.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Stiles says. “Let’s go get lunch.”

~~~****~~~

The next morning, Stiles finally hears from Derek.

From: Derek H.

**Come over.**

To: Derek H.

**no.**

From: Derek H.

**Why not?**

To: Derek H.

**bc youre a dick**

From: Derek H.

**I need help moving my stuff into my apartment. Please? I promise not to be a dick.**

To: Derek H.

**dont make promises you cant keep.**

From: Derek H.

**Fine. I’ll be a little bit of a dick but we both know I can’t help it.**

Stiles smiles. It’s the truth.

To: Derek H.

**fair enough. is noon okay?**

From: Derek H.

**Sure. See you later.**

~~~***~~~

Stiles pulls up to Derek’s house in the preserve around noon and finds a sweaty, shirtless Derek Hale doing heavy lifting. He has the front door open and is moving boxes from the inside of the house to the front porch. Stiles absolutely refuses to feel bad about watching instead of helping for a few minutes; Derek deserves the punishment. He finally decides to lend a hand, but before he can even announce his presence to Derek, his feet catch on each other and he stumbles out of the jeep and falls face first straight into the gravel driveway, hitting his head on the door on the way down for good measure.

When he comes to, he’s inside Derek’s house on the couch and Derek’s sitting on the table in front of him, eyebrows drawn together. When he notices Stiles is awake, he moves to his knees and leans over Stiles, cupping his face.

“Hey,” he says softly. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Stiles answers. “How long was I out?”

“Only a few minutes,” Derek replies, running a hand through Stiles’ hair. “God, how are you a cop?”

Stiles scoffs, winces when it sends a radiating pain through his head, “Fuck off.” He closes his eyes and leans his face into Derek’s palm that’s still cradling his face. “Feels nice.”

“I know,” he says as he leans in and kisses Stiles, short and sweet.

“Now would be the perfect time to have that conversation you wanna have,” Stiles says into the silence, keeping his eyes closed.

“I don’t want to take advantage of your less than healthy state,” Derek says dryly.

“I’m fine and you know it,” Stiles spits back. “Talk, Derek.”

“I already said sorry. But I guess I’ll say it again. I'm sorry we didn’t talk after what happened.”

“Don’t say sorry when you’re the dick that left the theater while I was sitting there like an asshole.”

“Fine. I’m not sorry I didn’t wait. I’m also not sorry about what happened.”

“Of course _you’re_ not,” Stiles says, opening his eyes.

“Are you?” He asks, eyeing Stiles.

“Not really,” Stiles shrugs the best he can while laying down. “He was-hey don’t stop with the head rubs-kind of a dud I guess. But I still feel bad.”

“Yeah,” Derek replies absently. “Why were you on a date?”

“Uh,” Stiles mumbles, eloquent as ever, while sitting up and facing Derek. “Allison set us up and…” Stiles turns and looks out the window, feigns interest in the woods he’s seen a million times.

“And what?” Derek prompts.

“And I was lonely, okay?” Stiles shouts throwing his hands in the air.

Derek looks like someone just kicked him in the stomach, “But…what about me...us?”

“I…” Stiles doesn’t know what to say without revealing he’s pretty sure he’s in love with Derek. “I wanted to go on a date. I wanted someone to hold my hand and tell me I look nice and maybe not have their endgame be me naked by the end of the night!”

“Oh,” Derek exhales, scoots back away from the couch, and Stiles.

“Yeah. And you didn’t, and still don’t, have the right to be pissed about that, okay? We aren’t exclusive.” _Your rule, not mine_ , Stiles thinks.

Derek nods, “You’re right. I get why you were mad. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again. You’re allowed to do what you want.”

“Okay,” Stiles breathes. He hides his disappointment by ending the conversation and lying back on the couch. Part of him had desperately wanted Derek to end their current arrangement and ask for something more permanent, official.

Stiles concentrates on his breathing and tries not to feel stupid for having hope.


End file.
